No Return (The Internal Defense Series)

by Zoe Cannon

  “You’re not considering this.”

  Becca turned and began to walk away.

  Kara hurried after her. She grabbed Becca’s arm hard enough to hurt. “We’re not Internal!”

  Becca shook her off. “And Internal is winning. If we don’t get those names, they’ve already won.” For a moment she had the strange sense of someone else speaking through her, someone willing to entertain a possibility Becca would have rejected in outrage. But it was her. Only her. This is who I am now.

  Kara’s face twisted—with disbelief, with disgust. “Then you’re really going to do this.”

  No, something inside her insisted. The same voice that had told her to wait for more evidence when Meri had told her about Ryann that first night. I won’t do this. I am not my mother.

  She ignored her inner protests. “I’m going to think about it.”

  “But you’re… you don’t…” Kara’s mouth opened and closed as she searched for words. “You’re the leader of the resistance. You’re Becca Dalcourt. This isn’t what you do.”

  Becca wondered how much Kara knew about the details of the liberation. About what they had sacrificed to make it happen. “This isn’t your decision.”

  Kara stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “You brought me here because you wanted my advice.”

  “I brought you here because I wanted to make sure I didn’t fall for her lies,” Becca corrected. “Instead you tried to convince me to endanger the resistance.” She pushed past Kara, walking faster, almost running.

  “If you do this, there won’t be any more resistance!” Kara called after her.

  Don’t listen. Keep going. Just keep going.

  Becca stopped. She turned around.

  Kara’s eyes blazed, but her voice was level. “If you do this,” she said, “it won’t matter if the resistance survives, because you won’t stand for anything that matters anymore. You’ll be no better than Internal.” She lifted her chin. “And I’ll have no problem watching the Enforcers take you away.”

  “Are you threatening the resistance?”

  Kara shook her head. “I won’t turn you in. Maybe you don’t believe in doing the right thing anymore, but I do.” She swiped a hand angrily across her eyes. “But I won’t try to stop them, either. And I’m done helping you.”

  That hidden part of her, that traitorous remnant of the old Becca, wanted to reassure Kara. Wanted to say, I won’t do it. Of course I won’t do it.

  She turned away.

  She didn’t look back—not at Kara, not at Ryann—as she left the clearing.

  Chapter Ten

  The doorbell jolted Becca awake.

  She jerked up from the couch, knocking the remote from her lap. The TV was still on—some show she didn’t recognize. Definitely not the last thing she remembered watching. How long had she been asleep? Blinking away the last of her nightmare—Ryann’s screams, the blood on her hands—she stumbled across the room and opened the door.

  Micah stood on the other side.

  No. I can’t deal with you right now. She almost closed the door in his face, might have if he hadn’t stuck a foot over the threshold.

  Micah’s gaze traveled from her bleary eyes to her rumpled clothes. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

  Becca rubbed the last of the sleep from her eyes. “I fell asleep in front of the TV for a few minutes, that’s all. What time is it?”

  “Midnight.”

  Midnight? She had gotten home from the clearing at eight, and that couldn’t have been more than half an hour ago. She blinked, trying to orient herself. “What are you doing here?” What are you doing here at midnight?

  “Is it all right if I come in?”

  She wished she could say no. She wished she could kick him straight back out to the parking lot—him and his apologies and the memory of his too-familiar voice urging her to let go. But if he had come here at midnight, it had to be important. She stepped aside to let him in.

  He studied the room for a long moment before returning his gaze to her. “Whenever I imagined coming back here…” His lips curved in a slight smile. “It’s silly, I know. But I never thought of you living someplace with actual furniture.”

  She didn’t want to think about Micah imagining coming back here. “Heather helped me decorate three years ago. A few months after you left.” When Becca had come to terms with surviving her suicide mission to the reeducation center. When she had decided to stop waiting in an empty apartment for the day when Internal came for her, and to start living instead.

  When she had decided to rebuild the resistance.

  “It suits you,” he said. “Before, this place felt… sterile. Empty. You’re so much more than that.”

  Becca took a step back, away from him. “Why are you here?”

  “Kara told me about Ryann. She told me about…” Micah paused. “About what you’re thinking of doing.”

  So that was why he had come here. “If we don’t find these spies, the resistance will die.”

  Micah nodded. “I understand.”

  “A hundred lives versus one. It’s not even a choice.” She wasn’t sure whether she was trying to convince Micah or herself.

  “Becca.” He took a step closer, erasing the distance she had just put between them. “I said I understand.” He let his breath out in a sigh that sounded like it belonged to someone much older. “I agree with Kara. I think that if you do this—no matter what you gain from it—you’ll blur the line between yourself and Internal. But I also know that you would never resort to something like this unless the situation were truly desperate.”

  Becca frowned as she puzzled over Micah’s words. “Then you didn’t come here to talk me out of it.”

  Micah shook his head. “I’m sure you’ve already heard more than enough of that from Kara.”

  “Then why are you here?” she asked him again.

  “Because I didn’t think you should have to face this alone.” Another step closer. She edged backward in response, almost without noticing. “If you want to talk it through with me, or if you need some company, or if you want me to be there with you tomorrow—whatever that ends up meaning—I’m here.” Another step. Another. Closing the distance, cutting off the air between them.

  She took another step back, until she was almost standing in the kitchen. She breathed like she had forgotten how. “And what does Kara think about that?”

  “Kara isn’t happy,” he admitted. “Kara is…” He paused, looking around the room like he was searching the air for words. “When Kara looks at Ryann, she sees herself. She sees what she could have become. She thinks you’ve betrayed her—and now that I’m here, she probably thinks the same of me.”

  “Then you shouldn’t be here. You should be home with her.”

  “Right now, you need me more than she does.” Micah didn’t come any closer. But the look in his eyes—the look that seemed to erase everything that stood between them—made her back up anyway.

  She shook her head. “I’m all right. This isn’t the first hard choice I’ve made.” She spoke more insistently than she meant to. Persuading herself.

  “That doesn’t make it easy. And it doesn’t mean you need to do it alone.” The warmth of his voice sank into her bones, thawing memories she couldn’t afford. Feelings she couldn’t afford.

  “I’ll make the choice. I’ll do what I have to do.” She took another step back. Hit a wall. “I’ll do what I have to do.” Repeating herself. “Go home. Comfort Kara. You’re wasting your time here.” She was shaking. When had she started shaking?

  Micah moved closer. One step, another. This time Becca didn’t move.

  Go, she ordered silently. Go. Get out of here. She didn’t know whether she was talking to herself or Micah. It didn’t matter.

  “You’re not your mother, you know,” he said quietly.

  Outwardly, the words froze her in place, but inside they burned like an electric current. “What are you talking about?”

&n
bsp; “You’re not your mother. No matter what you choose. That’s not what I see when I look at you, and it never will be.” He looked deliberately into her eyes as he spoke. “You’re Becca Dalcourt—the same Becca Dalcourt I’ve always known. Older. Stronger. But still Becca. Serious and guarded and unimaginably brave.” His voice lowered on the last words, softening into something soothing and intimate. Something dangerous.

  She shook her head, even though she wasn’t sure what exactly she was denying. “I’m not—” I’m not my mother. Or, I’m not who you remember. Or, I’m not the person you want me to be.

  “It was never supposed to be me,” she blurted.

  Stop, she told herself. But she kept talking. Confessing everything, like a dissident on the underground levels. “I was a minor informant. That’s all. I was supposed to pass information to the resistance from my mother’s files and from my work in 117. Then the others died, and there was nobody else. But that didn’t mean I knew what to do. It didn’t mean I could—” She drew a shaky breath. “I couldn’t do it. Not after the liberation, when Internal declared war on us. So I became somebody who could.”

  Micah started to speak. Becca didn’t let him. “If I lose that—if I listen to you, and let go, and go back to being the person you remember—I can’t lead them. Do you understand? Think about the Becca you knew. Could she have made a decision like this? Could she have lived with herself afterward?” She didn’t give him room to answer. “The resistance needs someone who can. So you’re wrong—I’m not the same person you knew three years ago. I’m not going to cry on your shoulder, and I’m not going to let go.”

  For a moment, Micah didn’t say anything. He traced her with his gaze like he was measuring what she was made of, evaluating the truth of her words for himself. His eyes returned to hers, searing her with memory, and she couldn’t look away.

  “Even when we first met, and you tried to push me away so I wouldn’t find out you were a dissident, I could always see past the mask you put up,” said Micah. “I could see the part of you that you kept hidden, even before I knew what it meant. And I can see it now. You’ve changed—how could you not?—but you’re still the same person I…” His voice trailed off. He took another step forward—close enough to touch now. And another—so close his breath brushed her skin. “You’re still Becca.” He spoke her name like an invocation.

  Micah was wrong. He was seeing what he wanted to see, that was all. This is who I am now.

  Micah lowered his face to hers. Closer. Closer.

  This is who I am now. There is nothing else.

  Their lips met.

  His mouth barely grazed hers, but that slight touch was enough to send memory singing through her body. Everything the past three years had stolen from her—from them—flooded through her, bright and new and hers for the taking.

  Be who they need you to be.

  Her eyes snapped open. She pulled away.

  “Go,” she said. “Kara needs you. And I have a choice to make.”

  He stepped back, eyes widening, as if only now realizing what he had done. “I’m sorry.” Even now, the calm in his voice didn’t waver. “I shouldn’t have—”

  “Go.” Her voice belonged to her mother again. The sound was almost comforting.

  Micah nodded. He started for the door.

  His fingers closed around the knob just as the doorbell rang.

  They both jumped. Micah looked back at her, eyes questioning.

  “Open it,” she said, already running through the names of everyone she knew, trying to figure out who would be coming here at midnight. Her list came up empty.

  Kara, an irrational thought whispered as the door opened. She knows what happened. What Micah did.

  But the face on the other side of the door belonged to Jared.

  She checked her phone. Dead. Inwardly, she cursed herself for not checking earlier. If anyone had needed her, she would have been unreachable. And clearly Jared had, or he wouldn’t be here at their door, breaking all their protocols and risking attracting the attention of Surveillance.

  “I’m sorry.” She held up the phone. “I didn’t—” She cut herself off. Apologies didn’t matter now. “What’s wrong?”

  His face was grim as he answered. “We have a situation with the spy.” He paused. “And with Kara.”

  * * *

  Someone had arranged the guard’s body on the forest floor—straightened his limbs, closed his eyes. Ryann lay beside him, unconscious, hands and feet bound with rope pulled punishingly tight. The beginnings of a bruise darkened the skin below her cheekbone. Two of the remaining three guards stood over her, hands resting on their weapons; they barely took their eyes from her even as Becca and Micah approached.

  The third guard watched Kara.

  Someone had tied her hands and feet too, although unlike Ryann, she was still conscious. She sat with her back against a tree, head bowed. Silvery tears streamed down her cheeks. She looked up at Becca with swollen eyes, then quickly ducked her head again.

  “Can I…” Micah murmured. He gestured to Kara.

  “Go ahead,” said Becca. “But don’t untie her.”

  Micah nodded, a look of pain crossing his face at Becca’s last words. He walked to Kara and knelt beside her, taking her hands in his. He spoke in a voice too low for Becca to hear. Becca watched for a moment, lips tingling with the memory of the kiss in her apartment, before she turned to the guards.

  “What happened?” she asked. Jared had explained, but she wanted to hear it firsthand.

  “Kara said she needed to speak to the prisoner alone,” one of the guards answered, her voice cool and professional. “She told us you had sent her. By the time we realized what she was doing, she had already freed the prisoner. The prisoner grabbed his weapon”—she nodded to the body of the fourth guard—”and warned us back.”

  “We should have shot her,” the other guard interrupted, flinging a murderous glare down at Ryann.

  The first guard silenced him with a look. “He tackled her,” she continued. “He probably forgot he wasn’t wearing his uniform—the body armor would have saved him. After she shot him, Kara started screaming at her, trying to take the gun. That distracted her long enough for us to subdue her.”

  Becca nodded. That matched up with what Jared had told her.

  The second guard nudged Ryann’s prone form none too gently with his boot. “What do you want done with her?” His teeth bared in something that wasn’t a smile. “Because I have a few ideas.”

  Two words would put Ryann’s information out of reach forever, and take the decision out of her hands. Becca wouldn’t even have to pull the trigger herself.

  Kill her. The words formed on her lips.

  “Are you willing to guard her through tomorrow?” Becca asked, half-hoping they would say no. “This won’t happen again. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “We’ll give you whatever you need,” the first guard promised for both of them. Her eyes warned her companion not to argue. The other guard scowled, but said nothing.

  “Then the plan hasn’t changed,” said Becca. “I’ll come back for her tonight.”

  “You’d better be coming back to make her pay for what she did,” the second guard muttered.

  The first guard shot him a quelling look. “Enough,” she warned in a voice that made the hairs rise on Becca’s arms—a voice that reminded her that these two guards were also Enforcers.

  The second guard didn’t say anything else.

  From across the clearing, voices rose in anger. Micah said something Becca couldn’t hear; Kara cut him off with a sharp response. Micah walked away, glancing back over his shoulder every few steps. Kara didn’t look at him.

  The first guard turned back to Becca. “And what about Kara?”

  Becca’s gaze drifted back to Kara. Kara wasn’t working with Ryann—she could be fairly confident of that. If Kara were a spy, she would have given Becca and the rest of the inner circle up to Internal weeks ago. Her
attempt to rescue Ryann had come from misguided compassion, nothing more.

  But that didn’t mean she could be trusted.

  And if she couldn’t be trusted…

  If she couldn’t be trusted, she knew too much for Becca to let her walk away.

  She glanced over at Micah, who now stood at the opposite end of the clearing from Kara, staring out into the dark woods. He was probably out of earshot, but she lowered her voice anyway. “I’ll tell you after I’ve talked to her.”

  The second guard opened his mouth to speak, but another look from the first guard silenced him.

  The first guard gave Becca a respectful nod. “We’ll be here.”

  Becca crossed the clearing to Kara. Kara lifted her head as Becca approached. She looked… defeated. Her usual aura of confidence gone, she hunched in on herself as if to escape Becca’s scrutiny.

  “I broke up with Micah,” she blurted.

  Becca blinked. “What?”

  “I broke up with Micah. Just now.” She twisted her hands together. The rope scraped along her skin, leaving angry red tracks behind.

  “Someone else is dead because of you.” Becca fought to keep the anger from her voice. “I don’t care about your love life.”

  “It was okay when I thought we would never come back here,” said Kara as if she hadn’t heard. “I didn’t have to feel so guilty about it then. But now that we’re back… it’s not right. I can’t take him away from you. Not from you.”

  Becca crossed her arms. “Why did you try to help Ryann escape?”

  “I just wanted to talk to her. To see if I could get through to her before… before tomorrow.” Kara’s feet twitched restlessly in a futile attempt to start pacing. “We talked about reeducation. About what it was like. She told me how lost she felt after they let her out, and how afraid she was—of Internal, of the resistance, of everyone. She—”

  “She manipulated you,” Becca interrupted. “And you let her.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” Kara clenched her jaw as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “She said she just needed some space. Some time away from everybody to figure it all out. And I knew I shouldn’t trust her, but everything she said… I knew what it felt like. I remembered.” Her feet twitched again. “I told her I’d let her stay with me as long as I kept her restrained the whole time. She agreed to it. I swear I didn’t know what she was going to do.”